El día que me quieras:

Acaricia me ensueño el suave murmullo de tu suspirar Coma ríe la vida si tus ojos negros me quieren mirar. Y se es mío el amparo de tu risa leve que es como un cantar, ella aquieta me herida, todo todo se olvida. «El día que me quieras » Alfredo Le Pera and Carlos Gardel (1935) At the end of a Cuban documentary, called «Che Comandante, Amigo, » (Bernabé Hernández, 1977), we see the following sequence of images: murals and posters with Che's image, crowds of exuberant young Cubans run toward the camera, and then a young boy, about five or so with flowing blonde locks, also runs toward the camera laughing, and then the final image: a painting of Che as Christ with a crown of thorns. 1 Such images, no matter how genuine the sense of loss, admiration, and gratitude, hurl Che Guevara out of time and history into the pure, eternal, fetishized realm of myth. This is, as Barthes has explained, a depoliticized speech, in which the sign, the image of Che, for example, is emptied of meaning and becomes available for any new meaning or use